After I Died My Daughter Dialed His Number Novels & Stories

"Your father called me that night around ten. I didn't pick up. I figured he was just calling to lecture me about treating you right. Again. It was so fucking annoying." I still remembered sitting outside the ER, dialing Connor's number seventeen times. He hadn't picked up once. I'd been praying for my father. I'd also been terrified something had happened to Connor. And Sophia. Those weren't sobs of grief on the phone. She'd been moaning. Something inside me died. "That was the last call he ever made. And he made it to you." Connor watched the color drain from my face. Now he was starting to get it.

I'm the middle child. My older sister, Jessica Carter, is a straight-A student. My little brother, Tommy Carter, is the baby of the family. I'm the one everyone overlooks, yet Mom and Dad are always praising me in front of other people. "Riley is such an easy child. She never asks for new clothes and is perfectly happy wearing Jessica's hand-me-downs." "When there are only two pieces of bacon left at the table, she won't even reach for them. She just keeps her head down and eats her toast as if she hasn't noticed." "Jessica shuts herself in her room to study, and Tommy hogs the TV. But even at ten years old, Riley insists on doing the dishes and sweeping the floors. We can't get her to

Victor looked at him. Because your father made one mistake. What mistake? He trusted the wrong person. Suddenly, Adrian's phone rang. Unknown number. He answered. Hello? For several seconds, there was only static. Then a man's voice came through. You finally asked the right question. Adrian's expression darkened. Who are you? The voice laughed softly. Ask your father why he kept Lena away from you. Adrian gripped the phone. My father is dead. Dead men leave records. The call ended.

I shook my head and from nowhere he produced a handkerchief. “Thank you,” I said, “and I have a cell phone. I’ll call my husband.” I couldn’t look at my dad again. I didn’t remember walking from the dark room that held my father’s body, but somehow, I was back in my car. I pulled my cell phone from my pants pocket. No missed calls. No texts. Nothing. Fucking asshole. Hopelessly, I dialed Peter’s number one last time. Voicemail. Fucking prick! I slammed the phone down in the seat next to me and buried my face in the steering wheel.

I looked down at the ground and tried to picture the image of my daughter, my beautiful Tina. She was the last face I wanted to see before I died. "Do me a favor, yeah? So hi to your wife and father-in-law in hell for me. You can greet dad too, I'm sure he'll be there as well." A sad smile crept up to my face, spreading my cheeks apart. I could already see myself staring at death's door. The sound of the gunshot rang in my ears. I didn't wait for the pain, I heaved a sigh and drew in my last breath.

To me, myself and myself, I was ready for war. When I got to the location, the build had no one. There was nothing in there, I searched until I got Black Jesus`s phone itself. Damn, they played me. I received a call from mom, “My son, your Dad…us.” “Mom, I can`t hear you. You are cutting this side.” “Your Dad has…” “Pardon?” This time, I pardoned not because I couldn’t hear her. I wanted her to say it for the last time. Her words didn’t change. Dad is no more.

The teats which I had been holding fell down, I dropped my suitcase on the rugged floor, then went to sit on the bed and let the tears flow. I had been crying for a few minutes, when I heard my cell phone ringtone go off. I picked it up from where I flung it, then answered the call, though it was an unknown number, “Ana, it’s Gideon,” he sounded devastated. “What happened to my father,” I silently prayed it wasn’t what I had imagined. “He is gone,” Gideon let out a sob. “Gone to where?” “Your dad is dead!!”

If not for the motherhood Spirit in me, I would have given up, though I was rest assured that my son is doing fine, with the picture that was sent to me. After trying for one hour, the number couldn't be tracked. According to the head cop, the number was unregistered and it seemed to be a special number. A call was put across the telecommunication company, asking for the details of the person that has the number but all effort proved to be abortive. The phone beeped again after thirty minutes, which said "Do you wanna see your son alive? Then let's negotiate". My heart accelerated seeing the word "alive". What does the person mean by that? Does he/she have the intention of killing my son? He

What a shame…" I did not hear the rest of what she said. I dropped the phone and collapsed backward. The moment my head hit the ground, I heard the children scream and rush toward me. My condition had worsened. The doctor insisted I return to the city for immediate treatment, but I refused again, making him so angry he hung up the phone. I was probably the most stubborn patient he had ever met. But what could I do? I did not want to live anymore. After a week in the hospital, I returned to the school.

Our eyes locked in a frenzy. “Tell her that I passed away in the explosion…” I stared at him in shock. “Dad, no…” “It’s the only way you can be with her…” That was the last thing he said to me. I played the role of a grieving son. Ben believed that my father was dead…and I got to be close to her. She was mine. PRESENT DAY I got ready for work and decided not to drive because I felt a little tipsy, so I called for an Uber. Thirty minutes later, I arrived at the office and composed myself, heading to my office like it was just a normal day.